


Sunset

by catapparel



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kissing, Smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catapparel/pseuds/catapparel
Summary: The Detective and Ava share a gentle moment as the sun sets.Pure self-indulgent fluff.
Relationships: Detective/Ava du Mortain
Kudos: 4





	Sunset

She keeps drawing your gaze.

Ava. Sitting there, on your sofa, perched like a bomb might go off momentarily.

You stir your coffee - decaf, since the sun has begun it's farewell curve over the horizon, and let your eyes roam over her. The last rays of the sun's late summer warmth filter in through your blinds, lighting up dust motes on its path to illuminate your love.

That's what the sun is for these days, if anyone asked you. It's for keeping her warm. That's what the light it brings is for, too. It's to light her way, and your way to her. The sun doesn’t hurt her, she says. And that's good. Because if it did hurt her, you’d summon strength like a creature from myth, and the rest of the world would go dark.

Her vision flicks over to you with the first footstep you take from the kitchen. The mug jitters only a little in your hands now that they've begun their traitorous nervous shake. Despite your nerves you offer her a gentle grin, and it pleases you to see her visibly relax back into the sofa cushions. 

Ava doesn't say anything as you approach. Her eyes are clear jade in the fading light, and your mug clinks against the coaster as you sit next to her on the sofa. The leather is warm from soaking up the sunshine. Your thigh brushes against hers. Her breath catches.

You force yourself to swallow down all those pesky whispering insecurities floating around your head. You need to tell her what you always want to tell her when you have the good fortune to see her lit up like this. That she is breathtaking. That she lights up whatever dark day you could possibly have. 

That you love her. 

"I can hardly keep my eyes off you, Ava.” Is what comes out instead, and it comes out softer and quicker than you meant. She catches it all the same. That is, if her now widened gaze is any indicator. 

“You’re gorgeous. More than gorgeous. There's something about you that makes me never want to look away.”

A beat passes. She’s staring at you, you know, but now you’ve let the truth slip, your eyes hungrily take advantage of the moment to drink her in. She has a regality to her - a set of cheekbones so pronounced, a jaw and brow so defined but delicate. A symmetry that gave you no surprises when she told you she was a lord’s daughter. 

It's her eyes that draw you in the most, always. There's a depth to the crystal green in them that seems bottomless, sometimes. Sometimes you want to dive into them and never surface. Now might be one such occasion, had her gaze not drifted down to your mouth about the same time yours wandered across her neck.

Her eyes flick up from your lips. She gazes at you through long lashes, closer than you were expecting, and you notice your sides are pressed against eachother all of a sudden. The myth of vampires being cold as ice couldn’t be further from the truth in this instance. The setting sun has you both awash in heat that stokes the embers between you, and Ava is more than warm, snuggled as she is against your hip.

You think you might be imagining it at first, but the blooming warmth that tingles up the soft skin of your forearm is indeed from Ava’s touch. You manage to wrench your gaze down to find her hand resting there. 

"I.. I could say the same thing to you." She says it softly; an admission. 

Then she says your name, with such reverence and affection you might just pass out. 

You can feel your pulse thudding in your neck. Her eyes linger again, alternating between your lips and your throat. 

Your free hand has made it to her cheek before either you or her can think to halt it. Ava’s skin is soft, and smooth, and your eyes drift back down to her mouth as your thumb brushes over her lower lip. You feel her fingers tense where they rest on your arm, but she doesn’t look away, or move, or do anything but stare at you and try to keep her breath. 

“Ava.” You whisper. It's all you can manage in times like these, because that's all your thoughts can consist of when she is this close to you, looking at you like she very much wants you to kiss her. 

Her fingers trail up your arm until they curl around your bicep. You can feel the faintest puffs of her warm breath against your lips, sending shivers across your skin. She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t want to. She can’t fight it anymore. 

You kiss her. 

Ava’s lips are soft, and warm, and meld against your own like she was made for you, like she's been waiting for this. God, she feels perfect. You have to fight not to drop your hands to her waist and pull her closer to you, instead letting your fingers curl gently into her honey blonde hair. She makes a soft little noise that you think might make your heart stop, but it doesn’t. It races at a thousand miles an hour instead as you feel her lips move agonizingly slowly against yours. She’s kissing you back. She’s  _ actually _ kissing you back. 

A burning urge, rising with the heat of the sun blazes up your body; much too hot and fast for you to tamp down. It twitches in your fingers and makes your veins alight. You want to pull Ava into your lap, or press her down into the couch and kiss her until neither you or her can think straight. You  _ want  _ her, more than you’ve ever wanted her. Months of unresolved sexual tension picked now to make its star reappearance, and the taxation of you forcing it down has you moaning into Ava’s mouth.

She freezes; the hand on your bicep having drifted up your sleeve, and the other placed over the thrum of your jugular. She pulls back from you slowly, and your eyes roam over her face. You briefly consider apologising until you see how her pupils are blown wide, her lips pink, plump. She looks stunned. And beautiful. Irresistible. 

And she's still got her eyes on your lips. 

Like a magnet, you find your head dipping, mouth angling towards hers once more because you can't help yourself. You have to taste her again. 

Your coffee, on the other hand, goes cold on the table. Undrunk, untouched, untasted. 

Ava doesn't. 

**Author's Note:**

> One of many shamelessly self-indulgent WIPs that languish in my drive folder, come to light. Forgive me for small typos here and there.


End file.
